


honour, duty

by noyabeans (snowdrops)



Series: writing with snowdrops (haikyuu) [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 20:12:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16750777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowdrops/pseuds/noyabeans
Summary: Of a knight and his lord; of a lord and his knight.Contains mentions of, but no actual character death.“Would you have rather I let you take it and die?”





	honour, duty

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this artwork](https://twitter.com/acidulication/status/1066778061935386624) by acidulication on Twitter.

Kuroo opens his eyes to Yaku’s deathly pale face, a furrow between his brows and concentration tight on his features. The tension barely eases up when he sees that Kuroo has awoken — if anything, his frown grows even deeper. 

“Yaku,” Kuroo says, attempting at a smile through the burning sensation engulfing the right side of his body. 

“You’re awake,” Yaku says, quiet and icy.

“How long was I out?” Judging from the sound of birds chirping outside, the sky should be bright by now, which means more than a few hours must have passed. The last he remembers is slumping across Kettou’s mane, the darkness of the night around them pressing closer and closer, Yaku’s voice in his ear telling him over and over, “Stay awake, _Tetsurou_ , you can’t sleep, not here.”

 _Please_.

“Two nights.” Yaku’s tone is clipped as he raises a hand to Kuroo’s face. Kuroo flinches instinctively, and hisses at the pain that jolts through him. “ _Don’t move_ ,” Yaku scowls, easily pressing him down into the bed, then removing the towel that Kuroo hadn’t realised was on his forehead. He swiftly replaces it, the coolness sending chills down Kuroo’s spine, then turns away to soak the used towel in a pail behind him. 

He sinks into the chair, scowl still firmly etched on his features. The shadows are dark under his eyes, made even starker by the paleness of his face. He looks like a walking ghost.

“Have you slept? You look terrible.” 

“And why is that so, _my lord_?” Yaku snaps, startling Kuroo with both the title and the ferocity in his voice, which he has not heard in a long long time. His fist clenches, unclenches, then slams against the headboard weakly. “What the fuck were you thinking? What the _fuck_ were you thinking, were you trying to die? That was a poisoned arrow!”

Kuroo’s blood runs cold. “Would you have rather I let you take it and die?”

Yaku doesn’t bat an eye. “Yes.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Kuroo bites out. Ignoring the protests of his body, he forces himself up, reaching over to grab Yaku’s collar where he sits by the side of the bed. There is no strength in his shaky grip; for a moment Yaku freezes, watching him with the rising apprehension and terror of a cornered animal. “I’m not letting you die under my watch, Yaku Morisuke.”

The spell breaks, and Yaku sees red. 

“Do you hear what you’re saying, my lord? I’m _supposed_ to die for you. My life is worth nothing if I can’t even protect you! Why are you —”

 _Why are you trying to give up your life for me? The people need you. The land needs you. Your life is infinitely more valuable than mine. What were you_ thinking _?_

The oldest child of the Yaku family, he was always meant to be the closest retainer of the future lord of the Nekoma house, Kuroo Tetsurou. His duty by Kuroo’s side had started the moment he learnt to walk, and it had only grown in importance as the years passed. From bandaging five-year-old Kuroo’s scraped knees after a fall on some rocks, to starting a fire and grilling river fish after being stranded in a thunderstorm, to accompanying Kuroo on a diplomatic mission to the newly-succeeded and highly formidable Fukurodani house, to standing in front of Kuroo on the battlefield.

After puberty hit, Kuroo had always joked that Yaku’s stature couldn’t possibly be of any kind of protection to him, but Yaku had soon proved him wrong. Agile on his feet, he was swift to attack and quick to defend in battle, and had often led their cavalry to victory even in the most hopeless situations. Together with a wicked temper and blunt tongue, he had carved out such a solid position by Kuroo’s side that few dared to cross the Nekoma house whether with swords or with pen and paper. 

During the battle with Nohebi two nights ago, he had been engaged in combat with a warrior, the last one still standing in their immediate area. 

He had seen it all happen in slow motion: the sword swinging towards him, himself ducking, the black-tipped arrow coming straight at him through the shadows. Kuroo flinging himself in front of him, the dull sound of the arrow making contact, Kuroo’s grunt of pain as he stumbled backwards and fell to his knees, the world turning red.

Outside, word in the Nekoma ranks would later spread: that the lord’s first knight had gone berserk the moment the lord was injured, and that after Nohebi had retreated he had single-handedly maneuvered the lord’s limp body onto his own horse, riding back for their base camp without a backward glance, as though blind to the injuries he himself was bearing. 

But inside, across the gap between bed and chair, there is only silence. Yaku takes a deep, shuddering breath through the icy clutch around his heart, before pushing Kuroo away from him, careful to not aggravate his injuries any further as he makes him lie back down.

He stares at the wall next to Kuroo’s bed, refusing to look at his lord even as he feels Kuroo’s eyes bore into him.

“You should rest,” he says at last, getting to his feet. “I’ll send the physicians to check in on you later.” 

Now that Kuroo is awake, the load on his shoulders has given way somewhat. He can feel the exhaustion from the last two days catching up to him; at last he can afford to get some rest. He'll deal with his mule-headed lord afterwards.

He’s at the door when Kuroo speaks again, his voice rough. 

“Yaku Morisuke.”

“Yes, my liege.” Though the words are instinctive, they roll off stilted. He has called Kuroo by his title possibly more times today than he has in the last decade. 

“Don’t you dare say those words before me ever again.” Kuroo says. 

Yaku stiffens, then turns back to the door without acknowledging his words. 

“ _Yaku Morisuke_.” There is impatience, warning, frustration, and something else in Kuroo’s voice.

“Yes, my liege.”

“This is an order,” Kuroo says, the words deliberate and slow. Frozen in place, Yaku stares at the heavy oak of the door. When was the last time Kuroo issued him an order? He can’t remember.

“You are not permitted to say those words before me ever again.”

Yaku grits his teeth, nails digging into his palm. Fuck you, Kuroo. Your power isn’t meant to be used like this. “Understood, my liege.”

“Yaku,” Kuroo says. “I would rather die if I saw you die and knew that I did nothing to stop it.”

Yaku spins around then, fury once again welling up within him as he makes quick strides back to Kuroo’s bed, taking in the sight of the bandages around his chest and arm, the unruly hair, the brightness of his eyes. The eyes he had thought he would never see again, the voice he thought he would never hear again. 

“Did you ever think,” he hisses, almost spitting the words, “that I would kill myself if you really died for me? What would you have me do if you had died, Kuroo? Do you know how _scared_ I was? How dare you do that for me and not let me do the same for you?”

Kuroo manages a small smile. “I make the rules around here.”

“I will walk out of Nekoma right this moment.” 

“Your liege forbids that,” Kuroo grins. It's a little less strained, a little more real, a little more like the Kuroo he knows. “Anyway, if that really happens, at least we’ll meet again in the afterlife.”

“You’re missing the point.” 

“I’m not. You’d die for me and I would die for you. We established that.”

“Don’t talk about death so lightly.”

“Fine. I’m glad you’re alive, Yakkun.”

Yaku heaves a heavy sigh. “You’d better damn well stay alive too, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> Do give acidulication's art an RT on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/acidulication/status/1066778061935386624) or a reblog on [Tumblr](https://acidulication.tumblr.com/post/180490114662/lord-tetsuro-of-house-nekoma-and-his-loyal-knight)! Thank you for watering Kuroyaku crops I didn't know I had, and I hope you don't mind me bouncing this story off of your artwork! 
> 
> Special thanks to the Kuroyaku squad Bree, Ny and Ritz for enabling me in your different ways. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are dearly appreciated, as always.
> 
> [tumblr (rielity)](https://rielity.tumblr.com/) | [twitter (noyabeans)](https://twitter.com/noyabeans) | [haikyuu writing journal](https://noyabeans.dreamwidth.org/)


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